n's

the click of th

eet vendor on the West Side-the same one we'd lived on during our safe house years, when we were

ring. Calcul

c dipped under his weight. His hand rose, slow and deli

hen I sm

Cloying. Woven into the very fibe

led lik

stop it. I jerked my head away so s

froze i

ollowed was louder

in his composure. Then he did something u

he said, voice tig

at the

the perfume invaded my lungs again. "This is the vendetta

ing

ts fried golden shell still steaming. Brought it towar

rancini from

ief flickered i

And dropped the arancini into the sta

choed through t

it with precise, methodical movements. Wiped t

my voice entirely f

raised

acked-like ice under too much pressure. The gri

he scent of her

," he whispered. A bl

hammered across the floor. Th

op the used napkin

on top of his rui

be rewarmed once